


A Game of Chance

by breejah



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Carjude, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hate Sex, Judan, Love/Hate, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex, Smut, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-09-24 17:25:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17104919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breejah/pseuds/breejah
Summary: Jude is now Seneschal to Cardan Greenbriar, High King of Fairie. To the Court of Shadows, she is The Queen - Shadow Ruler  of all of Elfhame. As the others of the Shadow Court are away on missions, she finds Cardan alone, wanting to play a game of poker. What's the worst that could happen?Set during/after the events of 'The Wicked King,' a complete multi-shot.Warning: Spoilers for TCP in Chapter 1, Spoilers for TWK in Chapter 2+.Porn with Plot/Feelings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finished TCP this week and had to write a one shot for my love of the series and as an excuse to write a much wanted smut scene between the two MPs. I was really moved at the complexity of these characters and the sheer badassery that is Jude. Enjoy.
> 
> This first chapter is set shortly after the events of TCP, consider it occurring during that missing chunk of time between TCP and when TWK kicks off. Spoilers for TCP abound.
> 
> PS - this is my first time writing in 1st person narrative, so any oddness is on me.

* * *

 

I’m surprised yet not when I come into the main area to the Court of Shadows to see _him_ sitting there, shuffling a battered set of tarot cards, gold coins and bright gems gleaming on the bare wooden table. It should upset me, the way my pulse rises every time he’s near, but all it does is make me angry.

I want to punch him. I want to kiss him - or, worst of all - I want to do so much more.

“Good evening, _Queen_ ,” Cardan purrs my way, his black eyes glittering with an emotion I akin to a mixture of malice and capricious desire. Just hearing it spoken like that, his face so easily readable, telling me exactly how deep he is in his cups tonight, make me want to loosen the blade under my corset and send it sailing straight into his heart. With him, I always feel so damned weak and I hate it. I’ve worked too long and too hard to be lost to something as simple as seductive words out of a pretty male Faerie’s mouth, even if that mouth happens to be the one wearing the High King’s crown.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my tone sharp, eyes narrowed, as I toss aside my bags - filled with various knick knacks for the cabinets, some mushroom poisons, fairie fruit, iron-tipped arrow heads and dried sausage bound in rosemary - and finally flop into one of the overstuffed chairs the Ghost has dragged down here with everything else. This place used to be simple, now it is decadent, a coveted spy space, bought with the High King’s gold.

Cardan merely smirks, reaching for a golden thimble of wine at his side. He studies me with those heavy dark eyes, finally shrugging a shoulder when he notices my annoyance at his delay in response. “I like it here,” he answers, his tone soft for once in my presence, surprising me.

The reaction must have registered on my features because almost immediately, his expression turns hard, cold and cruel - the mask I am used to seeing these days, all day, every day, ever since I forced that crown on his head. I tap my fingers on my boots as I wriggle one loose, looking around. “Where are the others?”

“Busy doing whatever it is you have them doing,” Cardan replied, pouring himself more wine. It was green, glittering gold fragments swirling -- the same kind he drank when he was forced to bend the knee under my command and become the thing he hated most. Now, he hated only one thing more than the crown he was forced to wear -- me. “They’ve been gone only about an hour. Said they’d be back in a few days.”

I thought over what I had them doing, testing the loyalties in other Kingdoms, learning their secrets, in case they tried to use them against us. Suddenly, I felt it, wincing before I could cover it up with a cough or a movement to turn away, a well of pain below my right breast as my body seized, heavy with what I had done - was still doing - wondering briefly if I had lost my mind. I was orchestrating the building of a court like a child with a deck of cards, and one slip of my careless hand would send it crashing down upon me, and Cardan himself more than likely, and I began to wonder, as I often did these days, if it was all worth it.

“Play with me,” Cardan suddenly said, and I tilted my head his way, staring at his unreadable expression. Heat creeped up my face, knowing he must have seen the brief look of panic flash across my features as I rubbed at that phantom ache underneath my ribs, and I almost stood and walked away. He had tried, too many times to count lately, to remind me how furious he was with what I had done to him. Now, though, he looked at me like he did that day I went to find others that would support my wayward plot to undermine Balekin, Madoc, and the others, ruling behind Cardan like a shadow. It was like the time he’d traced my ears, both disgusted and intrigued, and he looked like he had wanted to kiss me.

“Just for fun?” I ask, eyes narrowed. He smirks, tipping his head to the side.

“ _You_ command _me_ , remember? I can’t harm you,” he replies, watching as I stop breathing.

The words ‘ _not yet’_ hover so palpably between us, I have to force myself not to swallow nervously. I still haven’t figured out how I am going to convince him, how I am going to prove to him what my plan is - having him rule, alongside me, until Oak is of age, sheltered away and allowed to understand the importance of empathy - and have him agree to it, considering the clock is ticking until he’s out from under my grasp. Right now I can barely keep my head above water without drowning, nevermind the sharks that are starting to scent my blood in the water.

There are days I’m almost too afraid to wake up.

Taking my silence as assent, he deals us both a set and tumbles a fistful of glittering rubies and emeralds as my bidding pool. I cant my head to the side, surprised to see him setting up to play a human game of poker. I thought he hated everything about humans. “You know poker?” I ask, surprise coloring my voice.

“I know many things about humans,” he replied, as if reading my mind, his dark eyes unreadable as always. “And before you ask, I don’t hate it. There’s a lot of things I don’t _hate_ about mortals. You have _some_ uses.”

I grit my teeth, waiting for him to deal. He smirks, and we begin.

* * *

Two hours later, neither of us is winning over the other. Cardan looks as he always does, equally furious and equally accessing, as if I continue to impress him -- but _no_ , I think, that’s not possible. He hates me. Surely he can’t actually like that I can tow the line with him?

“This is pointless,” he finally calls out, shoving the piles of jewels off the table, as if they’re mere plastic chips I’d seen in those casinos I saw  Vivi take Heather to once. “Let’s try something else.”

“Like what?” I yawn, growing bored, despite not wanting to admit I enjoy beating him, continuing to remind him that while I may not have his extended years or powers, my mind is as sharp and cunning as his own.  

“The loser of each draw has to remove an article of clothing,” He grins, leaning forward, eyes and mouth positively wolfish.

I swallow, looking towards the bottle he had been steadily drinking out of. It’s nearly empty and I blink in surprise, realizing now that he was well past sober and, if under any other frame of mind, would most likely not have suggested such a thing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I comment, my tone surprising me with how calm it sounds, even as my palms sweat.

“I think it’s the best idea I’ve had in ages,” Cardan disagrees, dealing our first round. He grins, noting I lost, crooking his finger and motioning to my scarf around my shoulders. Despite Faerie having odd seasons, I grew cold wandering the myriad of maze walls underneath the castle grounds, often taking a scarf in my walks. I scowl, not wanting to remove it, and Cardan pouts, offputting me with how handsome the expression makes him.

With a sound of disgust, I toss it to the ground. As it stood, if I was to lose this kind of bet with him anywhere, this would be the place to do it. No one had managed to find our little hideaway and the others were gone for days. Still, I didn’t like the way my thoughts raced, my pulse picked up speed, at the thought of disrobing in front of him. If he saw me, all of me, would he be disgusted? Or still want me? What if something worse happened, like he saw how much _I_ wanted _him?_

The next several deals have us both losing garments. Cardan has lost his boots, socks, and shirt. I have lost my socks, gloves, and pants. My face flames, feeling the silk overstuffed cushions glide along my bare thighs, concealed only with my tapered peasant shirt and undergarments, and do my best not to stare at Cardan without a shirt. He is lean, but muscled, and not surprisingly, is hairless, smooth, and perfect, outside of the faint scars I see from where Balekin beat him along his shoulders.

“If you keep that up, you’ll turn red as a cherry,” Cardan drawls, draining the last of his second bottle of wine. I scowl, knowing the next deal will change things - not for the better. Both of us, at this point, have something to lose past our pride. Cardan leans forward, grinning faintly as his eyes lower over me, but before I can tell if heat bank those unreadable eyes, he casts the next set of hands.

I swallow, feeling the pit of my stomach drop. I’ve lost and he knows what that means, leaning back in his chair and looking pleased as pie. My fingers tremble, my cards fluttering loose to the table, revealing that my next hand wouldn’t be any better. He grins again at seeing them, looking my way, almost expecting me to bolt or back out. If I’m not mistaken, I see a flash of disappointment in his eyes.

That spurs me to do the most unwise thing I’ve ever done in my life. Furious, I stand, suddenly tasting the phantom hints of everapple in my throat as I strip down to my skin and settle back into the chair, as if nothing is amiss. I remember what I promised him, that day of the tourney, that if he tried to take me down, I would drag him with me.

I don’t miss the way his eyes grow hard, lowering over my form. I also don’t miss how his fingers grasp hold of the table, knuckles turning white, nor the way he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

“You win,” I say, though I know he thinks he’s lost. He wants me, I can see it, in the way his eyes stare at my breasts, my sex, my cavalier attitude, despite how my heart hammers in my chest, my pulse beating rapidly at my neck.

He sets the cards aside, revealing he also had a losing hand. Surprised, my eyebrows raise, but it’s when he stands, chucking off his pants, that I really lose my breath.

Standing there, he eyes me, tail swishing, body tight and poised, and aroused - everywhere. He stands there, furious and aching, his jaw flexing at how he shows his hunger for me as my eyes center on his sex, rigid and curved upwards towards his navel, away from his body.

“So do you,” he concedes, my eyes raising to meet his.

The next few seconds seem like an eternity, as we stare at one another. I remember his confession months past, where he hated me for all the things I had and he didn’t, and I him, for the things he took for granted that I would never have, but most of all in that moment, I remember hating his kiss and the way it made me wildly dangerous, unsure of myself -- _weak._

I don’t remember standing, or him coming so close, I feel his arousal briefly tease the low curve of my belly. I do remember his breathing, how it turned ragged, teasing the hair at my temple, and how I looked up, finally letting my mask slip. I wanted to scream, to cry, to show him how vulnerable I was and how much I hated him for making me feel this way. What surprised me is how I saw the same expression mirrored in his own face.

He grabbed me just as I reached for him and hoisted me up in his arms, my fingernails digging hard into his scalp. His hair was soft, like raven’s wings, and I shuddered as I felt the hot glassy crown of his sex nestled against the dripping heat of my own.

He staggered with me, my legs and ankles around his waist, to the room piled with sleeping mattresses. We crashed there, limbs tangling, arms and fists tightening around one another, lips and tongues melding as he shoved inside me. I didn’t tense or moan at the pain, nor did he stop to ask if I was alright. When I expected to lose that small part of myself, I never expected ballads or platitudes. I just never expected to lose it to  _him,_ or how much I might end up liking it.

He moved atop me - fast, hard - almost angry that he was the first to groan hoarsely against my lips when I squeezed down around him out of instinct. His hands dropped, twisting my nipples to the point of pain, making me whimper against his lips, enjoying both the pleasure and the pain. He growled, tearing his mouth away from mine to bite down along my jawline and thrust harder, faster, his pants ringing in my ears.

I didn’t want this, but yet I did. He knew, somehow, just what to do, how to touch me, thrust into me, tease and torment me, until I was gasping myself - a soft, pleading mewl escaping my lips. He growled again, excited that for once, he had the upper hand, slowing his body’s movements just long enough to force me to admit he had me, pleading for release.

“I like that,” he harshly breathed in my ear, crushing me under his weight. “When you beg me for something. Even more when it’s my cock. Don’t worry, dearest Jude, I’m in a giving mood.”

I bit him, making him groan so hoarsely, it infuriated me to think he liked it. As if in retaliation, he fucked me harder, making me scream out in pleasure at how much  I enjoyed it in response. I hated it, I hated him, and I hated that I would offer him anything as long as he didn't stop. Together, we moved faster, harder, hands turned into claws, marking one another furiously as we fought each other towards the edge of something I couldn’t quite understand, but craved with everything in me.

“What would you give for an orgasm? What would I give to feel my cock give it to you?” Cardan groaned against my ear, as if thinking out loud, between gripping thrusts into my body. Mine drew tighter around him while his twitched and swelled and he shuddered violently, just as I felt my belly grow hot, on the verge of bursting, butterflies and hot euphoria teasing in my veins.

“Anything,” I replied, hearing him murmur ‘ _yes_ ’ just as it happened. He had thrust a few more times, pressed _just so,_ and took my mouth with his. His hand had crushed against my right breast, teasing the nipple frantically with his fingers, and I felt his anguished groan against my lips just as his cock began to kick inside me, and I melted, screaming and clutching at his shoulders, as my desperation burst, turning to fluttering smoke of ecstasy from the way his body made me feel.

I felt the hot splash of his seed inside me, startle me out of my reverie. He felt my tenseness, then tugged on my breasts more, bringing me back to the blissful sensations from before.

Afterwards, he pulled out of me, but surprised me again by not leaving, tugging me close against him and immediately falling asleep. I laid there, trembling, terrified beyond measure.

I trembled because I was afraid. I was afraid because I might not hate him at all, and it terrified me that in that moment, it didn’t bother me that I no longer hated him at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved this book sequel just as much as I thought I would. I had to add a little "second epilogue" to the book, so be warned if you read this - TWK spoilers abound.
> 
> This is a little bit of a cannon-divergence from the book, as my first chapter I consider their first time, instead of the room behind the throne, so I could tie that chapter into this one. Hopefully you don't mind the adjustments. 
> 
> I had to add to the "hot mess" that is their relationship and - yes - I totally ship these two together in the end.
> 
> Enjoy!

I’m showing Oak how to play chess when a knock comes to the door. Vivi brushes past me as I watch Oak stare at the game pieces before me, a concentration furrowing his young brow.

This has been what has kept my mind off heartache and betrayal these past few months - teaching Oak how to fight, scheme, and best me in ways that he assumes are games. In the end, everything is a game, I suppose.

“Jude?” I hear Vivi’s voice - breathless, a little stunned - from the other room. I stand and ruffle Oak’s hair, heading for the door, picking up a dagger stored by the desk as I go.

“Think on your next move,” I tell him, as I close the door, moving towards the entryway.

Cardan stands there, without guards, without any petticoats or glamorous outerwear that would mark him for the King he is. “Wife,” he calls to me - voice unreadable, as always.

I stare unflinchingly back, my expression as unreadable as his own. He thinks I’ve been sitting up here, idle all these months, after he banished me? I often wondered, as I rejoined society, found various trainers in fighting, war tactics, friends at the library who liked lamenting over court intrigue from a millennia past in the human world of which I should belong but most likely feel like I never will, if he had spies watch me - told him of what I’ve been doing.

Part of me hopes he has, another part of me hopes he didn’t, so that I may surprise him with how deep his lesson went.

_Don’t trust too much._

_Don’t love too much._

_Don’t hope too much._

_Because that ‘too much’ can hurt you so much._

It was a lesson only he could have taught me so well. Madoc, Taryn, even Oriana had tried - but it was he that had succeeded in driving that cold heart-shaped sliver of stone into my ribcage and rattled loose what I once thought was hope, only to be left foolish to realize it was a mirage.

Now, I know better, or at least I hope that I do as I stare at him. His face betrays nothing and neither does mine. I don’t return the token title, he hasn’t earned that right from me, I merely stare, then turn my gaze towards Vivi, who eyes Cardan with as much hate as I wish I had in me, but I don’t.

I reflect back to that night we shared, once, in the green room behind the throne.

* * *

_“This was not your first time, though you were inexperienced,” he says, staring at me as I shimmy into my clothes. My hands pause on my leggings--fingers trembling--and I nod._

_“Who was it?” His tone implies more anger than I expected and I glance at him in surprise, amazed to see unfiltered rage suffusing his features._

_“You,” I finally reply, standing and shrugging on my doublet. He blinks - I’ve startled him._

_“What?” I finally hear him bark at me, suddenly standing and gripping my shoulder, turning me to face him when I was almost composed and about to duck out the door. I sigh, closing my eyes and look up into his face, shaking my head. “You_ **_lied_ ** _to me. About_ **_us_ ** _.” He sounds almost hurt._

_“I didn’t lie,” I reason, though we both see it for the cowardice that it is. “You were drunk, I merely left. You didn’t recollect the next morning what had occurred and I didn’t see any reason to tell you that it did.”_

_His fury was so palatable I could feel it, making me wince and try and reach for the door. “It took you this long to figure out why I avoid being alone with you? I make all the wrong decisions when we’re alone together. Just like now,” I whisper painfully._

_“Because you hate me?” He asks, his tone equally soft, though there is still a lingering current of fury buried there._

_I don’t have the wherewithal to nod. He growls softly, then crushes me to him, reaching for the nape of my neck. I stiffen in his arms, my eyes going wide, meeting his own furious ones, and he kisses me. I hate that I can’t stand not to touch him, and so I do._

_Before long, we’re both once more fully unclothed, giving into urges we shouldn’t. He takes me twice over before he finally allows me to part from him, after I know what his essence tastes like in my mouth and he knows what it feels like to memorize every inch of me with his fingers, hands, mouth and eyes. It burned me, the infatuation I had of him, and it frightened me because I was beginning to suspect, quite perilously, that it might be love._

* * *

“What are you doing here?” I ask, motioning him outside, away from Vivi’s furious eyes and Oak in the other room, no doubt still contemplating his move to take down my Queen. I would laugh, if I had the strength, at the thought, but I don’t. Instead, I stare at him as if made of stone and watch something shift in his dark fathomless eyes.

“You’ve changed--again,” he comments, following me outside. I watch Vivi close the door and move to wander down the lawn in front of our apartments, settling on a bench near a patch of daisies.

“Change is bad?” I ask, watching him stare at me, as if I’m a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. I give no indication that I notice nor care about his inspection of me.

“It is exhausting. Every time I think I have you figured out, you change. Again and again, always keeping me guessing,” he murmurs, still staring. I motion to the serene scene in front of us - no guards, no spies, no nothing. I don’t trust that they’re absent, but yet somehow know they are. I get the sensation he doesn’t want our long-awaited reunion witnessed.

“I’ve no time for your riddles, Cardan. What do you want?” I ask, suddenly exhausted myself, weary to the bone, though I pride myself that I maintain that mask as he does, staring at him with hooded, unreadable eyes. “As you can see, I’m recovered from my time Undersea, so you needn’t worry your pretty crown-bearing head over me. Go on, back to Faerie, and have your spoils,” I reply, keeping my voice hollow, my tone soft and unassuming.

 _Let him ponder me,_ I think, _let him wonder for months on end what I’m thinking or feeling or how my heart aches or perhaps it doesn’t ache at all and I am comfortable in my new home. Let him wonder as I have, for months, why he did this._

“And if I didn’t?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, leaning closer. I do my best to breathe evenly, furious at myself for feeling his attention like a scalding hot brand inside my bones, wanting nothing more than for him to touch me. “I am no longer yours to command.”

“As you so thoroughly taught me the day of my exile,” I whisper, suddenly standing, intending to head back to the house. “Lesson learned, Cardan. _Go_ \--your home needs you.”

“ _My_ home?” He asks, tilting his head to the side, catching my wrist. I expected his grip to be harsh and am surprised when it isn’t. He noticed I didn’t say _our_ home. I merely smile, gently tugging on my arm, hoping he will release it. He doesn’t, staring at me with a keen rage I rekindle to the two times we were intimate - like he’s furious for wanting me.

“ _Go_ ,” I reply, ignoring his question on why I refused to say _our_ home. For a long time, I wondered again what Vivi had shouted at me when we would fight after I continued to teach Oak all that I knew, praying it was enough, that I was enough to protect him until the time was right - hoping he would one day ascend the throne, aware and wary of treachery and schemes and able to forge his own path clear of both. _Why fight for a people who despise you? Why love a King who can’t stand you? Why shed blood for a land who rejects you?_ Staring at Cardan, I couldn’t help but be ashamed of all that I have given up because I’d done the worst thing imaginable, because I’d allowed _him_ to do the worst thing imaginable to me - _I had allowed myself to love him._ Even if just for a moment, a span of time between two breathes, I had thoroughly allowed myself to love him - and it tore everything from me.

“A kiss,” he spoke, standing, tugging me close. I was too surprised  to fight back, easily falling against him. “A kiss and I will go - but understand this, I will come back for you one day, _wife._ Continue to prepare yourself as you see fit, but you will go with me, to _our_ home.”

I frowned, not understanding what he meant - he had played me so well, even I didn’t realize I had fallen in love with him and relinquished everything until it was too late. Surely he didn’t think that could come back for us? That I would trust him again, after what he did? Surely he must have known, all the machinations I did, all the scheming, the command I had over him - were to better Elfhame as a whole, so that when Oak ascended, it wouldn’t be the bloodthirsty madness that it was currently? That I protected _him,_ so that he could see that things could be better, that we should _want_ to leave it better, for those that came behind us?

He didn’t wait for an answer, just lowered his mouth to mine. I was reminded, again, how devastating and deceiving his kiss could be, what it could make me feel. His lips moved, soft, against mine, and once more, I found a painful unfurling of hope blossom in my chest that maybe, just maybe, he’d married me because he loved me, because he wanted to protect me. But if that was the case, he had left me no evidence of that love, completely abandoning me to the elements and my fate once I was thrust back into the mortal world.

I moaned softly, the sound another betrayal of my battered and battle-weary heart, and I was afraid he would sense it for what it was - that I loved him still, just as much if not more strongly than I still hated him. As if sensing this, he moved forward, raised his fingertips, and commanded the shrubbery nearby close by his magic as King, cocooning us in a swathe of holly berry and leaves, shielding us from view.

I don’t know why I allowed him to touch me, but I did. His own breathing surprised me in its raggedness, as he tugged away my shorts and his own leggings, pressing me to the ground and settling himself between my knees as his kisses continued to deceive and devastate my senses. I didn’t bother to act like I didn’t want it, I didn’t crave it, and I was surprised at his own loud unencumbered groans when he breached me after touching me with bold need.

His thrusts were hard, desperate, starved, and I echoed them as I quickly crested with him, laying underneath his heavier frame - noting in shock at how different he felt. He must have sensed the same in me, touching me in places he never lingered before, gripping my breasts, my healthy cushioned hips, my strong thighs now laced with graceful muscles.

As if sensing my alarm at what he had just done, his mouth found mine again, and he took me again - drowning out my protests with languorous movements of his body that would have made me jealous if I’d  been thinking. Did he learn these moves with lovers he’d taken since my departure or before? Had he been faithful to me or like Locke had been before I’d threatened him - cavorting with anyone willing to get the eye of the King? As if in response, I demanded more the next time, moaned louder, hissed and bit and scratched at him, and he groaned so loudly, I was reminded of that first time in the rooms of the Court of Shadows and how he’d delighted when I caused him pain.

Eventually, he rose, dressing himself, watching me with unreadable hooded eyes like  before. I merely laid there, letting him inspect me - all of me - which he did so unabashedly as he dressed. Finally, he leaned over me, brushing another kiss against my mouth.

“I’m coming for you, little Jude. Best be ready when it happens,” he warned me, then left - like a shift of wind, there one minute and gone the next, the hedges swaying the only evidence that he’d turned and stalked off. When I finally dressed and headed back to the apartments, there was no evidence he’d even been there. Even less when I entered the apartment, seeing Vivi stare at the television and say nothing to me as I moved back down the hall, opening the door to Oak’s room, ruffling his hair again.

He looked up at me and smiled. “Checkmate. See? I did it.”

I looked at the chessboard and smiled back. “So you did.”


End file.
